Erik sits down at a fire and takes a charred haunch of venison off the rack. He takes a bite of food and doesn’t finish chewing before looking at the other karls in the encampment and speaks.
“So how did you guys join up under Knut?”
He listens to their stories of glory and honor. Stories of Knut winning duels with other branded, stories of Knut personally convincing them to fall under his banner, and stories of travels from across Njordr to join with Knut Witchbane, Champion of Runeheim. When it’s Erik’s turn to speak about Knut he sets the half eaten haunch on his lap and wipes his hands on his shirt.
“I came here following Gorm The Lion Killer. That man was one of a kind. I’ve never met another man who can hate like that guy, it was beautiful. And inspiring. And he died. Nobody boasted about it, but it turns out it was Knut who killed him. When I met him I realized that this was a guy who really embodied the best parts about Njordr. He’s a champion for all of us, and he’s branded for standing up to great evils. I mean he can face things that would make cowards out of any of us and not even blink. There’s really no one like him. And I’ll be the best karl he’s ever had!”
With that, the circle of fighting men are in an uproar, arguing about how best to prove themselves to their leader until the sun rises or they pass out drunk.